


Getting to Know You

by RogueBait



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Combat, Danger, F/M, Fantasizing, Fighting, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Some humour, The Hinterlands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueBait/pseuds/RogueBait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tala Lavellan's life has thrown her its biggest challenge yet: with disaster striking at the conclave, she now finds herself baffled by her newly appointed title of the Herald of Andraste, one of the Inquisition.</p><p>Of more immediate concern, however, are her attempts to navigate the figurative and literal territory surrounding her new companions. Customs differ, personalities clash, and a budding attraction grows seemingly of its own will. Personal differences aside, during an outing to establish camps and post sites between Haven and the Hinterlands, Tala finds herself suddenly head to head with an unexpected threat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Very slight trigger warning for implied villainous interest in non-con in a future chapture*
> 
> I'm not entirely sure where this is going to end, and though there's a chance it may eventually get porny, for now it's smut-free. Any chapters that contain explicit content will be flagged.  
> \---  
> Da'len – Little child  
> Hahren - Elder, a term of respect

They had set off before the sun that morning, like many other days that week. The crisp, pre-dawn air nipped at their flesh, and for a time all was silent and still. The group had finally trudged beyond the Frostbacks, breaking into the outskirts of the Hinterlands, trading frigid peaks for a green mecca bursting with life. Though it had quickly become arduous, their task was straightforward enough: establish preliminary posts and camp sites between Haven and the Hinterlands, both of which would become invaluable to their organization as time went on.

By various means and for differing reasons, the three companions Tala now found herself travelling with had assembled in an effort to restore peace to the fractured, bleeding skies above. They had been doing their best to navigate the new surrounds, though were Tala alone, she would have indulged in them; taken pause to study unknown herbs and plants, or a moment's respite under a lush, shady tree. Such was the beautiful attraction of their surrounds. As it was, she was very much not alone, and not without purpose. As a result, the day was beginning to feel unnaturally long, and with every passing hour the group's inefficient progress frayed at her patience.

She could handle the early starts and drudgery. The uncertainty of navigating new terrain. Tala was accustomed to such things during her many years as an accomplished hunter of clan Lavellan. A position which she occupied until very recently, in fact. No, the problem had much less to do with navigating their mission and much more to do with navigating her companions.

“See this ridge?” Cassandra stabbed a finger into the map Tala held, buckling the paper. Tala shot her a look and straightened the map. “We've passed it already. We were supposed to turn at this junction in the valley, here. We should turn back at once. It is too close to sundown already.” Tala's brow furrowed at the little crease left in the map.

“No, that can't be right,” she replied, shaking her head. “We did turn at that junction. _This,_ ” she waved a hand, map sagging. “Is where we are. See the outcrop over there? That's this, here. I'm sure of it.”

Cassandra sighed, abruptly snatching the map from the elf's slim hands, and proceeded to repeat herself in exaggerated detail, gesturing to the scenery around them as the volume of her voice climbed. Tala's eyes narrowed as she watched her, arms crossing against the amazonian warrior barking in her face. She resisted the urge to lean away, though she feared the risk for a face full of spittle rose with every passing moment.

“I don't know whether to stop them,” Varric murmured to Solas from where the two men watched, “Or pull up a chair. Honestly, you can't write this shit.”

“Their disagreement does seem to be reaching a troubling peak, I will admit,” Solas replied in measured tones. He considered the blush creeping up Tala's stiff form as Cassandra stubbornly parroted, and made a thoughtful noise. “In this instance, I think it best to let the Seeker and Herald sort this amongst themselves.” Varric cast Solas a look as Tala snatched the map back from Cassandra like lightning, immediately putting several paces between them, spurring an angry shout from the latter.

“I think that's the smartest thing you've said all day, Chuckles.” Solas ignored the dwarf's remark, leaning on his staff to observe the combatants, mouth quirking in amusement, despite himself.

***

Tala's teeth tore a strip from one of the last of the cured meats she'd packed into her travelling pouch at their journey's outset, jaw working as she absently pawed one-handed through her remaining supplies. They'd planned to establish several larger camps over the next four days as they moved to the heart of the Hinterlands, and between them, had packed enough necessities that none of them would starve over their journey, should foraging yield poorly or game be particularly scarce. It was no banquet, by any means, but Tala had subsisted on much less during harder times and was far from worried.

The slim elf detached a compact waterskin from one of several loops on her belt, removing the stopper with her teeth and letting it drop into her lap as she lifted the pouch to her mouth, draining the remaining liquid. The emergency camp they'd eventually agreed on setting up was set in a small glen, backed against a low, rocky rise, not far from a calm river winding between gradually sloping grass hills, fed by gentle falls farther above. The sun was drawing low, and she covertly glanced at her companions as they ate, sitting in a quiet circle outside the pup-tents they'd arranged not long before. Their faces were illuminated by the last of the day's rich rays of sunlight, all of them looking various degrees of dirty and tired. Sighing contentedly as she tucked away the remnants of her meal, she began shucking off her outer layers, inspecting them for damage and shaking off the dirt as she went.

“I think I might wash,” Tala said as she folded her things in a pile, then began to remove her heavily soiled foot-wraps. “Would anyone like to join me?” There was an odd silence, and a few quick glances exchanged between her companions. She stood up, clad in dirtied tan leggings and a fitted dusky blue tunic with a loosely laced v-neck. She looked at them expectantly, receiving no response. “I imagine it's not just me that could use a good scrubbing,” she added, plucking her shirt's sticky front away from her body.

“Aren't you Dalish?” Varric chuckled, breaking the silence. “I thought you were used to living like this. In the rough. With nothing but the stars over your head and no copper tub for an evening bath?” Tala snorted, crossing her arms.

“Just because I'm Dalish doesn't mean I have to smell like a wild boar. Besides, when one has limited resources, one learns to take care. Garments last longer when they're clean. And these could really do with some attention,” she gestured down at the stained clothes she wore. “And for the record Varric, we do have wash basins.”

“Fair enough,” Varric replied, amused. Tala stood several moments longer, glancing between her companions. Varric stifled a small cough.

“Nobody else? I can't be the only one here who bathes.”

Cassandra sighed, meeting Tala's eyes. “It is not something that we in the—that is to say, I don't know what Dalish custom dictates, but most here would not think it appropriate to—ugh!” Cassandra shook her head, quickly standing and moving towards her discarded weapons, picking up her shield in scrutiny, face flaming. “I am fine, thank you.”

“What Cassandra's trying to say,” Varric added, “Is that to us buttoned-up Andrastians, the idea of communal bathing borders on, well, heresy,” he finished with a weak laugh.

“Oh!” Tala said. “Really? I didn't realize. I expected there would be differing customs, but I've never been in this situation with sh—humans! Er, non-Dalish—before, so I guess...” Tala trailed off as she remembered she had in fact been in this situation before, with a human boy she'd befriended many years ago, during that difficult spell between childhood and adulthood. And she remembered how he'd never once protested her bathing or swimming without clothing in his presence. At the time, she'd thought nothing of it, beyond a vague curiosity at the expressions she'd catch on his face during the moments he thought she wasn't watching, and how he'd tended to stammer in her presence for some time after. Well. That explained a few things.

“But you're a dwarf. Do dwarves also believe the naked form to be inherently naughty, regardless of context?” Tala asked in amusement.

“Very observant, Herald. I am a dwarf,” Varric said with a wry smile. “But I'm a surfacer. I can't say what they think about the naked form in Orzammar, but for me, I tend to do as the humans do, as far as bathing is concerned.”

Varric scratched the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, and Tala shrugged in resignation, moving to leave when she remembered Solas. He had been awfully quiet. Curious. She turned to him slowly, raising a brow. He was sitting cross-legged, eyes placidly turned towards the small bonfire he'd conjured for them, hands folded neatly in his lap.

“So what's your excuse, Solas?” Tala asked, hands on her hips. “Surely you don't suffer from the same human sensibilities? Or have all those years living alone made you shy?” Her tone was light, teasing. “Or is there something you're hiding? Some horrible shame, perhaps?” Solas sniffed in amusement.

“As an accomplished huntress, I would have thought your methods of baiting to be more sophisticated, da'len,” Solas quipped. Tala barked a short, derisive laugh.

“Only when my quarry doesn't assume a false air of utter unflappability, _hahren_ ,” she smirked, grabbing a woven towel and a small, fragrant bar. “Suit yourselves,” she called backward as she moved merrily away.

With slightly reddened ears, Solas reached for the small, weathered tome he'd found earlier in the day, clearing his throat and feigning sudden interest. He could feel Varric's eyes on him and swallowed thickly, trying to regain his composure.

He could not deny his growing attraction to the elf. He had found himself unable to resist indulging in her passing flirtations, and returned—perhaps even escalated—them with complete disregard for the ramifications. He wondered if his interests were becoming as apparent to others as they were to him. And why had he called her da'len? She was no child. Of all the stupid things to say.

“Chuckles, you're blushing!” Varric exclaimed, a broad grin sweeping across his face. “Oh. This is perfect,” he laughed deeply. “Our lone elven apostate finds himself inexplicably drawn to one of the Dalish he claims to hate so much.”

“I do not hate the Dalish, Master Tethras. I simply do not agree with their beliefs, or their way of expressing them,” Solas replied, brows knitting as he pretended to skim the table of contents. Varric's grin deepened.

“Ah, so you _do_ like her.”

Solas sighed audibly. “Not everything is as you portray them in your stories, child of the stone.”

“Whatever you say, Chuckles.” Varric propped Bianca across his knees, unfolding an oiled cloth from his pocket with care, still grinning broadly. “Whatever you say.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Very slight trigger warning for implied villainous interest in non-con*

Despite the pleasant weather earlier, the air was quickly cooling as the sun set behind the hills. It brought gooseflesh to Tala's arms, now wet and chilled from washing her clothes. She removed the last of the items on her person: linen chest band, light cotton smalls, and a single discreet dagger, bound to her thigh by a tight strip of leather, and placed them next to her clothing on a patch of lush grass above the bank. Though she left her larger set of hunting daggers back at the camp, she was in the habit of ensuring she was never entirely without protection, should the need for it arise, and the light weight of the hidden blade she carried against her provided additional reassurance.

She sat, drawing her knees up, and set about untangling her hair with her fingers, undoing a solitary braid amidst the vivid honeyed mess, cursing quietly as her fingertips worked a particularly bad snag. A spectral twilight began to creep over the landscape, and she moved her drying towel into place on the river's edge, supposing she should hurry so she could get back before night truly fell. Though their group hadn't come across any dangerous beasts that day, she considered the possibility of one happening upon her under the veil of night, and felt it wouldn't be in her best interest to fight a large bear alone. In the nude, nonetheless.

Rising to pad down the bank, she whooped as she dropped herself into the river, the frigid water reaching her thighs. The current's pull was steady but manageable, and she moved against it toward a small waterfall tumbling off the jutting edge of a low, rocky cliff, bar of hand-pressed soap gripped between her fingers. Wading waist-deep, she bent to splash water on her upper half as she went, gasping slightly as it rolled down her back. She reached the fall, and stepped into its path, suppressing a squeal of shock as the water ricocheted off her body, soaking her thoroughly. She moved out from beneath it, pushing her hair off her face and dipping the soap in the water, working it into a rich lather scented pleasantly of fresh mint and lavender.

She sighed contentedly as she lathered her hair, then swept the soap across the length of her body in circling motions, scrubbing hard with her free hand. Chucking the soap to the river's edge with a strong arm, she moved to rinse the suds off under the fall, leaning her head back, and snaked her fingers through her locks. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out an indecipherable protest as an errant stream of soapy water ran into one eye, and moved to submerge her entire head in the force of the waterfall, tilting her head side to side, thoroughly washing the soap bubbles from her ears. Water pinged off their pointed tips and she shivered slightly as the sound of the falls overwhelmed her senses.

A muffled noise reached her through the din. A tumbling rock. And footsteps? Like the rest of her brethren, her ears were extraordinarily keen, able to locate and identify things far beyond any human's range, but with one ear plugged with water and sharp eyes squeezed shut under the pounding torrent, she found herself at a disadvantage.

She imagined Solas moving slowly toward the river's edge, having reconsidered her offer. He'd move freer, away from the others, allowing his hooded eyes to briefly run over her taught form as he approached. Perhaps he wouldn't be able to conceal his guarded interest in her. Perhaps there lay dormant in him desires she could spark to life, there, naked in the water. Desires he was finally allowing himself to submit to at this very moment. Perhaps he'd already removed his shirt, and was sliding his leggings slowly past the sharp relief of his hips. Perhaps.

Tala took a breath and stepped out from beneath the falls, shaking the water from her head as she opened her eyes. She froze. It wasn't Solas. For one brief, ridiculous moment this fact seemed of greater importance than the two bedraggled, armed men standing less than thirty paces from her, leering. However, proper sense quickly took hold, pushing all fanciful thoughts aside. She did not have to look towards her things to realize they would reach her knife before her if she made a dash for it at this moment, burdened by the water as she was, and so she steeled herself and stood her ground, staring.

One of the men gawked at her openly, eyes raking over her vallaslin, flowing down her wet, naked form. Her slitted eyes reflected the meagre light of the dim evening back at him, and the man suppressed a shiver, looking to his companion.

“Her things,” the man barked, gesturing his head toward the pile of clothing on the riverbank, where her knife lay. Tala kept her eyes on the one who spoke, tracking the second man in her peripheral. The second man lumbered over to her possessions, plucking her small clothes off the ground to wave in the air with a guffaw.

“Look! Elven pants!” he shouted, his grin exposing several rotten teeth. Tala's gaze intensified and she lifted her chin, refusing to peel her eyes from the loathsome man across from her. He stared back, licking cracked lips.

“And what's a lone Dalish elf doing out here, eh?” he said, walking toward her slowly. “Lost your clan, sweetheart? Or are you perhaps waiting for a special someone?” He eyed her up and down in blatant appraisal, and Tala's eyes blazed. Try it, you fucking fool.

“Shy, are we?” the man said with a low, oily voice, one hand on the hilt of his sword as he approached the river's edge. He kicked off his boots and stepped in. The second man pawed through Tala's things, laughing stupidly at the first man's words, pausing to watch.

“Don't worry, deary,” he said as he sloshed slowly through the river toward her, closing the distance. “I'll help you.”

Tala set her jaw as he approached, eyes boring holes through him as she fought the urge to clench her hands at her sides. She waited until he was within touching distance. Grinning arrogantly, he reached towards her, making to bunch a fist in her hair. Striking like a viper before he reached his mark, she snatched his arm, hard nails cutting into the flesh, and bit down on his bare skin with as much might as she could manage. She twisted a vicious chunk of flesh partly from his forearm in one swift motion as she pushed off of him, and the man howled and grabbed at his butchered arm in shock. The wound gaped, dark blood rushing from it and pouring down his limb.

“ _Fucking_ _knife-ear_ _ed_ _cunt!_ ” he bellowed, removing his bloodied hand from his injured arm to unsheathe his sword. Tala hawked a bloodied mouthful of spit directly into his face in response, and moved to run past him. He yelled again, scraping at his eyes, and swung his sword blindly, forcing Tala to leap back in narrow avoidance of a swipe to her midsection. She glanced quickly at the second man, now standing in dumb alarm, sword drawn, and knew she didn't have much time.

Tala's eyes locked with the first man's, his pupils large in the dark and face alight with rage, smeared with his own spit-thinned blood, as he grabbed his sword with two hands, grunting as he raised it up through the water, intent to strike her down in a sweeping arc. The man was strong, but the elf was quick, and the water's hindrance slowed his movement enough to allow her to deke to the side, dodging the blow as the blade slapped harmlessly into the water. In the next breath she was upon him, using his forward momentum to grab the man's collar and yank him below the water's surface, face-first. She heard the second man shout and glanced up as he breached the water, all splashing limbs flailing towards her. Tala pushed the first man hard at the back of the neck with a second hand, pressing her full weight upon him, digging her knee into his back as he fought and flailed beneath her, sword tip occasionally peaking through the water's surface as it glanced off her submerged legs.

Just as the man's movements began to weaken, the second man reached them, and Tala leapt off her attacker with a curse, breaking towards the bank as quickly as she could, splashing noisily in her haste. The second man pursued her, screaming incoherent threats, and she scrabbled up the rocky bank, grabbing a sizable stone from beneath her as she ran. She twisted around, slipping and falling on her back with a grunt as the second man descended upon her, only to stop suddenly in his tracks, wobbling as his eyes rolled back in a pantomime of surprise, the rock Tala launched having connected hard with his head.

He fell to the side, rolling onto his back with a groan, and Tala leapt upon him. The man brought up his arms in a dazed attempt to deflect her final blow, and she smacked them aside, bringing a second rock cracking to his temple with a furious yell. He fell still, breathing shallowly. Unconscious, then. Not dead. Good, she supposed. She panted heavily, still clutching the rock astride the unconscious bandit, the other man's blood streaking down her neck in long tendrils.


End file.
